


Alone

by batyalewbel



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Shelby liked to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in the other one shot I just posted...I have a problem and its this show

Tommy likes being being alone. He likes solitude and small groups of people.

He never enjoys the big parties he throws at the garrison...he hates parties. He hates the noise and the crush of people. The smell of too many people and their sweat.

He frequently find himself being bitterly amused at how many parties he throws when he can't stand them.

And his family...make no mistake Thomas Shelby loves his fucking family but they are loud and big and when it's the whole clan things tend to get lost or left behind in the mayhem that is the Shelby clan.

In many ways, it reminds him of the war thats long gone. The war he's shut away.

Fifty fucking men shitting in the same hole in the ground before going back to huddle with the same fifty men in another hole in the ground. It was never quiet and it was _never_ peaceful. So many people in one space starts to make it hard to think. It occupies space in the brain after awhile. Mental strength gets devoted to maintaining calm and not screaming at the next person who trips on your feet when you have five minutes to sit down. And the smell...fifty men with weeks between showers. The odors were obscene.

So Tommy likes being alone. He likes to duck out of his fancy parties so he can go sit and have a think.

Sometimes alone gets to be too much though. Alone doesn't chase away the shovels banging on the wall. Alone doesn't light up a room.

So he likes company...small company. Him and his brothers drinking and joking. Him and Pol talking.

Him and a girl...doing what men and women do. He has to admit that's his favorite.

Over there, he desperately missed having his hands in a girls hair...touching the skin between her shoulder blades. He used to dream about the small of a girl's back.

When he came back he paid for sex but it was more about release than it was about enjoyment. He didn't play with her hair, touch her mouth, her cheek. He did his bit and was done.

With Grace it had been special.

For one night he had done everything he had dreamed of during the war and since. It had been perfect.

And now it was gone.

So he paid for sex with a pretty woman, and he spent time with his brothers and Pol. He ducked out of parties and sat alone thinking about his next plan.

And occasionally at night, when he had dreams of the tunnels or he was having trouble sleeping at all, he thought of blond curls and the sweet vanilla scent of _her._ That was usually enough to let him slip into blissful rest.

 


End file.
